


Golden

by orphan_account



Category: The Mighty Boosh RPF
Genre: Desperation, M/M, Watersports
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-28
Updated: 2015-12-28
Packaged: 2018-05-09 23:23:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,409
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5559793
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This is entirely a work of fiction.</p></blockquote>





	Golden

The moon was just a couple of days shy of full, riding high above the old tenement blocks that lined the deserted streets in this part of the city. The sky was tinted a deep blue, a faint wind sending clouds scudding across the rooftops, dancing with the chimneys, swirling away down towards the centre of town. Underneath it all, leaning heavily on each other in an improbable twist of physics, stumbled two astonishingly drunk young men. One of them- the shorter of the pair- was talking. He had been for some time. The other was listening; or, at least, was staying quiet and nodding occasionally, which amounted to more or less the same thing if you weren’t really paying attention.

“The thing is, right,” he was insisting clumsily, “that reinventing yourself is the trademark of all great performers. Look at Bowie! Man never- fuck, I gotta piss- never stays still. You know what I mean?”

He paused, waiting for a response, but none seemed forthcoming.

“Ju?” he prompted. “Julian. You listening to me?”

The taller man blinked, clearing his throat.

“Hm? Oh, yeah, absolutely.”

His confident smile would have been convincing if it hadn’t been followed immediately by a giggle, which he tried to hide by pressing his face to the top of the shorter man’s head. He carried on undeterred.

“Right, because he kept pushing boundaries. All the time, he kept changing. Alright, so the eighties were rough on him, but it was an experience, wasn’t it?”

"I understand,” said Julian. “Actually, no, I don’t. What are you on about, Noel?”

“Us! The Boosh, the whole show. What if we just aren’t meant to be on the stage?”

“You love being on the stage, though.”

Noel sighed, looking up at the street ahead of them for the first time in a long while.

“We nearly home yet?”

“Ten minutes, I think,” Julian replied. “Fifteen if the door’s locked.”

He shrugged in response to Noel’s faint whine of protest, a movement which nearly sent them both irretrievably off balance.

“Don’t be like that, ‘s not my fault keys don’t work when I’m drunk.”

“I need a wee.”

The childish lift to his voice made Julian’s mouth twitch into a chuckle, but when he felt Noel shift uncomfortably against him the smile fell from his lips. That didn’t feel like play-acting.

“It isn’t far,” he said in a tone which he hoped sounded reassuring instead of faintly concerned. Things had to be bad if Noel was actually admitting it. Noel didn’t seem convinced, his free hand snaking down to squeeze at himself absently, and Julian changed tactic.

“What was the point you were making?” he asked. Noel glanced up at him, eyes slightly glazed over.

“What?”

“About us not being supposed to be on stage.”

Noel nodded distractedly.

“Oh, yeah, that. Well, ‘s like Bowie, right?”

“Yeah, you did that bit already.”

“Oh. Alright. Did I do the bit about the 80s?”

“You did mention them. You said they were a rough time.”

“They were. I mean, just look at ’86. Bad year for hair, that year. Hair and leggings.”

They were getting back into the swing of the conversation again, tossing out words in time with the irregular staccato beat of their combined footsteps on the cobbles, but Noel was still gripping urgently at the front of his trousers. Julian wished he could stop finding it so difficult to look away. His own bladder was beginning to twinge in sympathy.

“How much further?” he asked again, a hint of panic in his voice as he looked up at Julian. The taller man frowned.

“How long did I say last time?”

“Ten minutes.”

“About two minutes less than that.”

"How much is that?”

Julian rolled his eyes.

“If either one of us was able to do basic maths then we’d have remembered to keep some money back for the cab home, and then we wouldn’t be having this problem,” he said sharply, regretting his words immediately when he saw Noel wince. Taking deep breaths to calm himself and push away the defensive sarcasm, he did his best to count up the remaining minutes. This proved more difficult than he’d expected. Half of his fingers were behind Noel.

“Seven?” he said at last, frowning at his shoes as though they would correct him. “Seven. I think.”

He heard a faint gasp by his ear and then the world swung sickeningly as Noel stopped sharply. Swaying slightly as he adjusted to the sudden lack of support, Julian turned around to see his friend doubled over, hands shoved tightly between his legs. Something swooped low in his stomach, sending a sharp twisting sensation through his groin.

“Come on,” he began, but Noel shook his head.

“I can’t, Ju, I’m gonna piss myself.”

There was a faintly hysterical edge to his voice, almost laughing, silhouetted in the moonlight. Julian shook his head.

“It’s not far now, not really,” he said softly, trying to ignore the weight of his own bladder resting uncomfortably inside him. Noel shook his head frantically, straightening up and crossing his legs, hands glued to his crotch.

“No, I mean it. If I don’t find a wall or something, I’m gonna piss myself.”

He looked around, then turned and stumbled back a few paces, ducking into an archway leading down a side street. Julian had no real choice but to follow.

By the time he caught up Noel was already fumbling frantically at the zip on his jeans.

"Come on," he muttered urgently to himself. "Come on!"

A split second later he froze, letting out a low, filthy gasp. As Julian watched, powerless to so much as blink, the younger man lolled back against the worn brickwork of the alley wall. A dark stain began to spread across the front of his trousers, accompanied by a faint hissing noise. Lit by an ancient orange streetlight, his skin looked almost golden. The dark patch spread quickly, urine streaming down his legs and pooling on the cobblestones around his feet.

It seemed to last forever, that moment, with Julian frozen and wide-eyed. Noel was panting, giddy laughter bubbling out of him as the pressure finally abated.

“Ah, fuck,” he breathed, and Julian whined despite himself, feeling that swooping sensation again, more intense this time. Noel’s expression was practically orgasmic. His hips were tilted out, away from him, and he rolled them slowly as the stream began to peter out, catching Julian’s gaze with lust-blown pupils. He gave a frighteningly innocent smile.

"You can go too, if you want," he said with a forced calm that did little to hide the breathy tremor in his voice. "It feels..." He laughed again. "Feels good."

Julian could imagine all too vividly how good it could feel, and it's exactly that reason which made him so certain he couldn't. A faint hope that Noel wouldn't notice sparked in his mind, but of course he was never going to be that lucky. Noel noticed everything.

It took him a second.

"Why won't you?" he asked, in response to Julian's hesitation. "You've drunk at least as much as me. You've gotta be bursting."

Julian wanted to tell him that he was, but his tongue felt hangover heavy in his mouth and the words wouldn't come, just a cut off sort of whimper. The ache in his bladder was building, but he didn't grab himself. Noel's eyes went where his hands didn't.

"Oh."

The word was quiet but it seemed like a shout, the only thing Julian could hear other than his own heartbeat. Noel stepped closer.

"You got a stiffy?"

That was putting it lightly. Julian was so hard that he was worried the zip of his trousers was going to leave teeth marks along the side of his cock. Noel grinned, moving in until his chest was pressed flush with Julian's and he could feel a wet pressure against his thigh.

"Ju? 'S alright. Me too."

He ground his hips firmly against Julian's thigh to underline his point, stifling a moan. Julian pressed his eyes tightly shut, breathing in the heavy scent of Noel's piss and trying to pretend he wasn't desperate to let go too. Noel slipped his arms around Julian's waist, pressing lightly against his bladder as he did so. His words were even more slurred than they had been when they'd left the pub almost an hour earlier.

"Yeah, but 's fine for you. You've already... been."

He felt Noel's smile prickle against his neck, heard the gentle teasing in his voice.

"Do you want to go?"

His bladder throbbed, and Julian thought if he hadn't been hard he'd have lost control right then and there. He nodded. He didn't trust himself to speak.

"Do you want me to help?"

Logic told Julian to turn and run, to get as far away as possible before things could escalate any further. The only trouble with that was... well, the whole situation. He was a grown man with enough alcohol in his bloodstream that a paper cut would probably be flammable, hard as a rock from watching his best friend- yeah, with benefits, but this went way beyond an occasionally blowie when bored- wet his pants in a deserted alleyway, desperate to do the same. Logic had wandered off to safer streets a long time ago.

"Yeah," he muttered. Noel pouted, running a teasing finger up the length of his shaft through the confines of the tight denim.

"Are you sure?" he asked, as Julian tried to arch into his hand.

"Please," choked the taller man in a voice layered with all varieties of desperation. His whole abdomen ached. Noel grinned wickedly and dropped to his knees, not seeming to care what he was kneeling in. Looking at the way he shifted to reach the right position, Julian could almost have accused him of enjoying it.

It took a full minute to ease the zip down, Noel's thumbs rubbing absently up and down Julian's inner thighs as he did so. As soon as his cock was free, Noel took it deep into his mouth. Julian almost cried. The pressure inside him, the strain of holding it so long, meant that his cock was agonisingly sensitive, and his eyes crossed as Noel began to swirl slow circles around the head with his tongue. Painfully slow and attentive, just the way Julian liked to torture him. This time it was Julian's turn to beg.

"Noel, I need-" he managed, but was cut off by his own moan. Gasping for breath, he tried again. "I need to come, I have to piss now, Noel, now- n- ah-!"

He thrust his hips, then doubled over as the movement made the urine in his bladder slosh violently. Noel pulled off slowly and reached out with his hand instead, still kneeling. He stroked Julian's cock, gentle and fast, and Julian found he no longer cared how loud he was being or how many neighbours might need sleep. Ragged gasps and cries tore from his throat, then suddenly his whole body stilled and he came, shuddering, all over Noel's chest.

The relief lasted barely a second. His bladder gave one final stab of protest, and then his aching muscles gave way. Piss sprayed out of him, soaking his trousers and splashing onto Noel's skin, and he groaned as the tension left him all at once. It felt like he was coming all over again. Noel seemed to sit up straighter, practically relishing it, one hand palming roughly at the front of his jeans.

"Tha's it, Ju," he mumbled, panting. "Tha's it, you're doing great."

That was nice to hear, because Julian was certain that he couldn't stop now even if he'd wanted to. His jeans were soaked and itchy, and Noel was rubbing his face against them frantically in time with the movement of his hand against his pants. He was writhing in desperation, whining at the back of his throat. As Julian's piss trickled down the back of his neck, drawing some of his hair into thick strands behind it, he came with a final ragged yelp, slumping against Julian's leg.

Julian kept going for a few seconds more, staring down at the tableau of debauchery before him. Noel was flushed from the neck up, breathing heavily, tilting his chest up to catch the last few drops of urine. His eyes were dark, heavy lidded, and his t-shirt was covered in Julian's piss and come. He was smiling.

"Better," he murmured, looking up at Julian with a gaze that was faintly unfocused. "Yeah?"

"Yeah," replied Julian in a voice that sounded far away. "Fuck."

For a moment there was nothing. Noel ran his fingers absently through the obscene mix of fluids covering his t-shirt and stared at them for a while before giggling.

"Fuck, I am pissed," he said to nobody in particular, laughing at his own choice of words. "C'mon, Ju. Let's go home."

He climbed unsteadily to his feet and reached out a hand to Julian, who took it. He was exhausted, his legs feeling like they were about to give way. Noel seemed to have brightened up no end from the incident. Julian felt like he was about to pass out.

In the end, the flat turned out to be twelve minutes away. The door was unlocked, and Julian practically fell inside. Immediately Noel ran into the bathroom, the word "shower" echoing in the air behind him. His muffled explanation through the door was "All that's on you is basically water. I've got all sperms on me."

Julian didn't have the energy to protest, settling for wiping himself down with a damp flannel and crawling into bed with a clean pair of boxers and a t-shirt. He was pretty sure, in an abstract sort of way, that he should be embarrassed or ashamed of what just happened. It was a strange, and not entirely pleasant, surprise to find that he wasn't.

Before the thoughts could take root he felt the bed shift as Noel crawled in beside him, pressing close so they would both fit on the narrow mattress. Julian's arm went around him instinctively. He smelled of soap, and his hair was still damp from the shower. As Julian was drifting off, breathing the scent of shampoo, he was pretty sure he heard Noel saying something about a radio show.

But that was a conversation for the morning.

**Author's Note:**

> This is entirely a work of fiction.


End file.
